The Tale of the Courier
by MadCapMunchkin
Summary: Reese Avellone was shot in the head and left for dead in a shallow grave. His quest for revenge will see him crisscrossing the Mojave looking for the man in the checkered suit.  Meanwhile, two armies are getting ready to go head to head for the Mojave...
1. Ain't that A Kick in the Head?

**A/N:** "Tale of the Courier", the MadCapMunchkin treatment of "Fallout: New Vegas". Due to the extreme popularity of my first two Fallout fics – "Tale of the Wanderers" and "Tale of the Mercenary" – I decided to keep things rolling with a third one. So, without further ado, I give you…the beginning…

**Chapter One**  
Well, Ain't That a Kick in the Head?

"Easy, Rascal, we're almost home…"

Another trip into an NCR town had taken more time actually getting in and getting out than getting anything he'd actually needed from the market, but Reese hardly cared. This trip had been about getting some scrap to deal with the goddamned purifier, knowing that Em had wanted it fixed for quite some time now.

And little Melanie wouldn't be growing up big and strong on dirty water, her ma wouldn't allow it.

Reese laughed as he remembered how Emily had chided him for not getting off his lazy ass before, then planting a short and sweet kiss on his lips before letting her husband head out into the wild and wooly California desert, telling him what a wonderful husband he was for doing so.

"_She's a real card, that girl of mine…"_ Reese thought fondly of his wife as he headed up a hill that overlooked the homestead that they called their own, his…or rather, _Melanie_'_s_…dog by his side as he approached. The damned thing followed Reese everywhere after it had found its way to the farm two years ago, and it had been so friendly with Melanie that the family of three had decided that he was a good pet.

"Good boy…" The young man said softly as he ruffled the hair on the mutt's head. After a moment, it came to Reese's attention that Rascal's ears had flattened against the back of his skull, and the canine's teeth were barred.

"What is it, boy?" Reese asked, seeing that the Rascal was looking in the direction of the Farm. Readying his shotgun, Reese headed toward the farm. Crossing the other side of the hill, he saw it. The door was open, illuminated by candlelight.

Emily wasn't at the window, and Rascal started barking as he charged toward the house. Reese was quick to follow the mutt, hearing now the sounds of voices from within. With reckless abandon, he shouldered his way into the cottage.

The sight that greeted him rocked him to his very core.

Blood had been smeared on all of the walls. Emily lay limp against the table, propped up in one of the wooden chairs, all of the blood being hers.

But more important were the three bandits who stood clad in leather, each of them carrying a sawed-off.

"Now, now, now Farmer Joe! You don't wanna get any closer!" One of them sneered, readying his weapon as quickly as Reese had readied his.

"You killed my wife, you bastards!" Reese roared at them, shaking the other two just a bit. "Now I'm going to blast your fuckers into dust!"

"Unless you want your daughter to join her, I think you'll back off, redneck!" The same bandit replied, unshaken by Reese's ultimatum as he moved to the side to reveal the tied up form of a little girl in a musty, old dress of flax that had been hand-stitched.

"Mel!" Reese froze upon seeing his daughter struggling against the ropes that bound her, her screams for help muffled by the gag she wore.

"Now, drop your gun!" The bandit snapped. "Or I put her little lights out for good."

"Okay, okay!" Reese said. "Just don't hurt my daughter!"

He dropped the shotgun onto the table, sliding it across toward them and letting it fall onto the floor. The lead bandit laughed.

"That's good. That's real nice." He said, then turned to his two friends. "Grab him, bind his hands." The two hulking men descended on Reese with cloth binds, binding him right after they forced him to his knees.

"Well, it looks like we've done enough damage here, boys." The leader spoke once again. "Leave Farmer Joe and his daughter here, and we can-"

He was cut off by the barking of Rascal, who leaped up and knocked the leather clad punk to the ground, biting down hard and tearing his ear off.

The screams of agony were music to Reese's ears as he managed to get in a head butt on one of the other two, while simultaneously kneeing him in the groin. The second was forced back when Reese backed up into him to get momentum for the groin kick, and subsequently fell backwards and broke one of the chairs.

With some effort, Reese was able to shake his boot to drop the flip knife he carried out and into his hand, which he then used to cut the cloth bindings around his wrists. Hands free, he snatched his shotgun up from the dirt and had it readied by the time either of the two men could recover.

"Alright." Reese said, gritting his teeth. "I have to bury my wife and tend to my daughter. Kindly get the hell out of my home!"

Two shots rang out, but neither came from Reese's shotgun. Instead, he heard a loud whimper as Rascal fell to the ground with blood being forced by the bullets from his wounds.

"You know, before I was just gonna leave you and be done with it." The leader, one-eared as he was, said. "But now, I'm gonna put a bullet in your daughter's head, and your head, too, you dumbass hick!"

Two shots sounded that sent One-Ear and one of his buddies to the ground without heads. As he reloaded, Reese turned on the third.

"I'm sorry, you want one, too?" Reese asked as he put new slugs in. Without a word, the third bandit began running.

Not that he got far. Having shrapnel pierce you through the heart tends to end your existence very quickly. Reese barely paid the dead asshole a second glance as he turned to check on Melanie. He quickly took the gag off of her mouth and started working on the cloth binding on her writs.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" Reese asked.

"Momma's dead, Daddy." Melanie croaked as he tore off the bindings.

"I know, baby, I know…" Reese said as he reach up and put a hand to each of his daughter's temples, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "It's gonna be okay, sweetie, it's-"

He stopped, noticing that fresh blood was smeared on the front of his shirt. Reese knew well what it meant, and knew that it was too late to save his daughter.

"Daddy…you're crying." Melanie said, blissfully unaware that the front of her dress was now stained with her own blood, the shock of everything apparently making her ignorant of the pain. Her seven year old fingers reach up to wipe the tears out of Reese's eyes.

"Yeah, I am, sweetie." Reese said. He was no surgeon, but he knew that the wound was fatal. Most of her organs had been hit by shrapnel, and stemming the bleeding would do next to nothing at this point.

All he could do was watch his daughter die.

"What are we gonna do, Daddy?" Mel asked as her father came up on the bed next to her, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

"Well, baby girl…" Reese said as he embraced his daughter for what he knew would be one of the last times in his life. "You should get some rest. Your Daddy's gonna clean this up, okay? And then…we'll work it out from there."

"But Daddy-"

Reese just shushed her, stroking her golden-brown hair gently as he felt the heat leave her body…

And she was gone.

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Three years later, the sand of the Mojave Desert howled with a sandstorm. Reese pushed his way across the sands, hoping to cross nothing and no one on his way toward the Strip. In the satchel across his chest was a package to be delivered to Freeside, and his current employers at the Mojave Express expected him to get it there.

After adjusting the goggles he wore to keep the sand out of his eyes, he reached for a metal flask on his belt and unscrewed the cap, pouring some of its contents into his mouth. The hard, rich flavor of the whiskey hit his taste buds and slithered down his throat like a contented snake.

A brief reminder of what awaited him when he finished this stupid job and got the goddamned caps.

Unfazed by the weather, he kept heading south, to a settlement that his map called "Goodsprings". From there, he'd travel further north and then east to the Strip, where he'd drop off this damned package and be done with being a courier. He didn't know what he'd do after leaving the Mojave Express, but he knew well that the Mojave would be a place to stay.

He couldn't go back West, not again.

As he took the turn to Goodsprings, he was caught unaware when something slammed hard against the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

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When Reese awoke, several hours later, he found himself in a different place than he remembered, but he tasted a great deal of dirt and felt soreness throughout his body. Biting down, he found that he'd been gagged.

And he heard the sound of a shovel piercing the earth. Someone was digging.

"We got what you were after, so pay up…"

"You're crying in the rain, pally…"

"Guess who's waking up!"

"Time to cash out." The owner of the second voice who had spoken was seen by Reese clearly for the first time. The man had thick, black hair, had the chiseled features of some kind of pretty boy politician, and wore a very, very distinctive checkered suit.

He dropped a lit cigarette and smothered it under his shoe.

"We could get it over with-" One of the men, clearly tribal, spoke.

"Maybe Khans may kill people without looking them in the face." The man in the checkered suit held up a finger to the man. "But I ain't a fink…dig?"

Without another word to the five men alongside him, Great Khans, the man looked back at Reese. Producing it from his jacket, the man held up a shiny, oversized poker chip – the very thing that Reese was delivering to the Strip.

"You've made your last delivery, kid." He said, slipping the Chip back into his coat and pulling out a nine millimeter. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene…from where you're kneeling, it must seem like an eighteen karat run of bad luck. Truth is…"

His finger tightened on the trigger, aiming for Reese's head.

"The game was rigged from the start."

The gun went off, and Reese knew no more.

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**A/N:** And so it begins. Tell me what you think, everybody! Until chapter two, have a good one! By the way, you likely won't be getting Chapter Two until I get "Tale of the Wanderers" finished, but I just wanted to whet your appetites. Anyway, let me know what you think and I'll see you in Chapter Two!


	2. Back in the Saddle

**A/N:** Here comes Chapter Two…after some lovely "Review da review"...

**Bren Tenkage** - Brilliant opener, eh? Well, more of Reese's background will be sprinkled throughout. I like how New Vegas gave the character a bit more freedom as far as backstory goes, gave me freedom that I've completely run with.

**Law the Lord of souls** - Thanks very much. And I hope it will be good. We will have to see.

**yrwelikethis** - Glad I got your interest. Here's some more for you...

**Dillion1000** - Nope, I wasn't. *laughs* Here's some more for you.

**Chapter Two**  
Back in the Saddle

Light slowly came back to his world, fading in like the picture on one of those old, Pre-War televisions. As his vision returned to him, the first thing that Reese noticed was…a ceiling fan.

"Hey…you're awake…how about that?"

The voice was a Mojave accent, he was still in the Mojave, apparently.

"_That or heaven…Ma always said Heaven had air conditioning…"_ He thought sarcastically as he tried to sit up, his vision starting to blur again.

"Whoa! Take it easy! You've been out for a few days…" As Reese's field of vision cleared again, he saw an elderly man in a gray button-up shirt and some suspenders sitting in a wooden chair a few feet from the bed where he now laid. "Why don't you just take a second…get your bearings?"

Reese put his hands up to his face, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. When he touched his forehead, he found that the spot where the man in the checkered suit had put a bullet in it. It had been stitched up with great expertise.

"How 'bout your name? Can you tell me your name?" The man asked.

"Avellone. Reese Avellone." Reese told him, finding speech coming out slowly at first, his jaw seeming have gone unused for some time.

"Heh…can't say that's what I would have picked for ya, but if that's your name, that's your name." The old man said. "I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings…"

"Thanks…" Reese said softly, remembering the events of a few nights ago. It seemed he'd been dug up out of that shallow grave and brought down to the town nearby.

"I hope you don't mind, but I had to dig around in your noggin' to pull all the bits of lead out." Doc Mitchell said. "I take pride in my needlework, but you better tell me if I left anything out of place." With that, the old man handed Reese a mirror which, tentatively, he looked into.

"How'd I do?"

Both of his eyes were still intact, as was his nose and the rest of his face. Despite being hit by a nine millimeter bullet at point blank, it seemed that his face had miraculously taken little damage that it didn't already have.

"_Talk about dumb luck…"_ Reese thought with a mental snort as he examined himself, looking at the reflection of the stitched up hole in his head.

"Looks good..." Reese said, setting the mirror down on the bed.

"Well, got most of it right, anyway." Doc Mitchell said, rising to his feet. "Stuff that matters…" He reached over, helping Reese to his feet. "No sense keeping you in bed anymore…let's see if we can get you on your feet."

Reese's feet did not buckle as he rose, standing once again.

"There you go. Why don't you try walking over to the other side of the room? Right by that Vigor Tester machine. And take it easy…" Doc Mitchell said. "It's not a race…"

Reese carefully took a step, then another, approaching the large machine in the corner.

"Looks good so far." The good Doc said, standing by the machine. "Go ahead and give the Vigor tester a try. We'll learn right quick if you got back all your bits and pieces…"

Reese walked over and examined the machine for a long moment before grasping the joystick and squeezing it once, activating the machine.

The boards in the screen flipped around, revealing the Vault-Tec mascot, Vault Boy, as a bodybuilder. Several multicolored lights lit up, seven of them in total.

Pressing a button on the right, Reese saw the boards flip around again, This time revealing the Vault Boy with an eye, an ear, a nose, a tongue, and a hand floating ominously around him. Six lights lit up this time.

The same button was pressed and the Vault Boy was now jumping rope, five lights lit up to the left of him.

Another button pressed and the Vault Boy now was pointing his fingers at Reese and giving a rogue wink. Only four lights lit up, and Reese let out a sardonic snort.

Another button press saw the Vault Boy with his yellow-haired head in a book. Five lights lit up to his left.

Another press and the Vault Boy was balancing on the tip of a sarsaparilla bottle. Eight lights lit up on the left.

The last screen saw the Vault Boy cross the path of a black cat. Only five lights were lit up. Please with the results, Reese stepped back from the machine.

"Heh…most patients don't get up from bed after being shot and move like they was in perfect control." Doc Mitchell said. "You're unusual, I'll say that."

"Yeah, that's me." Reese said noticing that his other hand had fallen asleep and he now shook it to wake it up again.

"Well, we know your vitals are good." Doc said. "Why don't you sit on my couch and I'll ask you a couple of questions? See if your dogs are still barkin'?"

With that, the Doc led Reese out of the small exam room and into a living room that was sparsely furnished with a rug, a couple of chairs, and the couch he had just mentioned. Without a sound, Reese headed across that carpet and sat down on one of the light green cushions.

"Alright. I'm gonna say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind." The doctor across from him said. Reese nodded in understanding.

"Dog."  
"Feed."  
"House."  
"Shelter."  
"Night."  
"Sleep."  
"Bandit."  
"Stab."  
"Light."  
"Heavy."  
"Mother."  
"Caretaker."

"Okay." Doc Mitchell said, nodding. "Now, I've got a few statements. I want to know how much they'd sound like something you'd say."

"Alright…" Reese said, deciding to humor the man.

"First one. 'Conflict just ain't in my nature.'"

"No opinion."

"I ain't given to relying on others for support."

"No opinion."

"I'm always fixin' to be the center of attention."

"Doesn't sound like me at all."

"I'm slow to embrace new ideas."

Reese shook his head.

"I charge in to deal with my problems head on."

"_That_ sounds more like me." Reese said.

"Okay, almost done here." Doc said, pointing to an easel on which sat several Rorschach blots. "Why don't you have a look at this? Tell me what you see."

Reese looked at it for a long moment. "Broken chain…it's a broken chain." He said.

"What about this one?" Doc said, switching them out.

"A ship?" Reese asked.

"Is that an answer or a question?" Doc asked, giving the younger man a look.

"A ship. It looks like an old sailing ship."

"Last one." Doc said, showing the last image.

"A head on a pillow." Reese said.

"Well, that's all she wrote." Doc said. "I haven't got anything to compare it to, so maybe you'd better take a look at the results. See if it all seems right to you."

Reese took the clipboard that he had been scribbling notes on and examined it.

"Looks like you've got me down to a tee, Doc." Reese said, flipping through the pages.

"Well, before I turn you loose, I need one more thing from you." Doc said, taking the clipboard back. "I got a form for you to fill out so I can get a sense of your medical history. Just a formality, I don't expect to find you got a family history of getting shot in the head."

Reese sighed and filled in the paperwork, then handed it back to the Doc.

"Alright, that about does it." He said as he rose. "Come with me, I'll see you out."

Reese followed the Doc around to the front door, where a bundle of equipment was set. The doctor picked it up and handed it to him.

"This is yours." Doc said. "I hope you don't mind but I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me find a next of kin, but it was just something about a platinum chip."

"Thanks, Doc." Reese said, checking the package, finding his nine millimeter, his three fifty-seven, and a few stimpacks and ammo.

"And if you're heading back out, take this." Doc Mitchell said, holding up a metallic armband with a screen and some switches on it. They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of the Vaults they built before the war, we all had one. Ain't much use to me now, but you might want such a thing after what your been through. I know what it's like, having something taken from you."

Reese nodded to him.

"And take this, so the locals don't poke fun at ya for lack of modesty." The doctor said, pulling out a blue and yellow jumpsuit with a big 21 stitched in the back. "Never was much my style, anyway…"

After Reese had changed into the outfit, he returned to the hallway. "Thanks for patching me up, Doc." He said as he slung the leather courier satchel he'd been wearing during his trek through the Mojave over his shoulder again.

"Don't mention it." Doc Mitchell gave him a warm smile. "It's what I'm here for."

"I guess I'm off, then." Reese said, knowing well that he wouldn't like the end result if he didn't get that Chip back.

"You should talk to Sunny Smiles before you leave town. She can help you learn to fend for yourself in the desert. She'll likely be at the saloon." The Doc told him. "I reckon some of the other folks down at the saloon might be able to help you out, too. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you out of the grave."

"Metal fella?" Reese asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's a robot." Doc said.

"Alright, I'll go look him up." Reese said.

"Alright. If you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I'll fix you up. But try not to get killed anymore." Mitchell said.

"No promises." Reese said with a laugh as he headed for the door. As he stepped out into the sun again, he held the Pip-Boy that Mitchell had given him in his hand. He slid it onto his left wrist and felt it secure itself to his flesh.

"_Well, that's the end of that wrist…"_ Reese thought as he stepped down the dirt path from Doc Mitchell's place onto the broken gravel road before it, and he met the most interesting sight – a tall, blue robot that with a television for a face plate. The entire form was blocky, almost as if this were some kind of sentry or soldier robot.

The image of a smiling cowboy appeared on the screen as it rolled up to Reese on its single wheel.

"Well, howdy pardner! Might I say, you're looking fit as a fiddle." The robot, Victor, said in a voice that was just as polite and friendly as you please.

"You must be Victor." Reese said. "And yeah, Doc Mitchell patched me up. Thanks for digging me out of that grave."

"Don't mention it!" Victor said. "I'm always ready to lend a helping hand to a stranger in need."

"How'd you happen to find me?" Reese asked him.

"I was out for a stroll that night when I heard the commotion up at the old bone orchard. Saw that looked like a bunch of bad eggs, so I laid low. Once they'd run off, I dug you up to see if you were still kickin'. Turns out you were," Victor said, "So I hauled you off to the Doc right quick."

"Well, thanks again for that." Reese said, nodding to him. "Can't say that I've ever seen a robot like you before."

"I'm a Securitron, RobCo security model 2060-B. If you ever see any of my brothers, tell them Victor says howdy." Victor said.

"Will do, Victor. Will do." Reese said.

"Happy trails!" Victor sounded like he would be grinning had he a mouth as turned and rolled off down the road.

Somewhat bemused, Reese walked down along the same road, finding the Goodsprings General Store and the Saloon on the left. Tumbleweed blew past him as he took the steps up to the door of the saloon, and opened it.

0000

A dog was growling low, crouched low next to a jukebox that was producing the sounds of New Vegas Radio.

"Cheyenne, stay." A young woman dressed in leather armor with a rifle slung over her back spoke, stepping forward to greet him. "Don't worry, she won't bite unless I tell her to."

"I'm Reese. Reese Avellone." Reese introduced himself, offering his hand for a shake.

"Sunny Smiles. I hunt geckos." The young woman said, taking his hand.

"So, you're the lawwoman around here?" Reese asked.

"Pretty much." Sunny said. "I also keep the town clear of radscorpions and coyotes. There aren't many people in Goodsprings, so wildlife is always creeping in."

"Doc Mitchell sent me, said you could teach me a bit about surviving in the desert." Reese said. "I see that he wasn't wrong."

"Yeah, I guess there's a thing or two I could show you." Sunny nodded. "Sounds like you need all the help you can get after what they done to you. Meet me outside, behind the saloon."

"Got it." Reese said as Sunny headed out with Cheyenne, with him following. Out through the back door, they arrived at a metal shed and a fence where several empty sarsaparilla bottles had been lined up.

"Here, take this." Sunny said, handing Reese a rifle and a few 5.56 rounds. "Try to hit the bottles off the fence."

"No problem." Reese said, taking the gun and loading in a clip and taking aim. The shot went off and hit the bricks behind the bottles.

"Rusty?" Sunny asked, giving him a smile.

"Little bit, I guess." Reese said, then proceeded to fire three shots that bull's eyed their targets and sent shattered glass flying.

"Nice going!" Sunny said, looking impressed. "But I reckon you didn't you didn't come to me to learn to fight sarsaparilla bottles."

"Not really, no." Reese said, chuckling.

"Tell you what. I gotta go chase geckos away from our water supply anyway. Darn critters are attracted to it. Why don't you come along?"

"Okay, I'm in." Reese said, nodding to her.

"Follow me. It's down to the southeast a short ways." Sunny said. When she headed off, Cheyenne and Reese quickly followed.

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Soon, three wells were cleaned out and a young, blonde woman that had been fighting off some geckos stumbled toward Reese.

"Holy moly!" She exclaimed. "If you hadn't come here like you done, I'd be a goner for sure."

"No problem, ma'am." Reese said.

"Jean! You know not to come down to the well on your own!" Sunny said, running up along with Cheyenne.

"I know, Sunny…I better get back to town." The young woman smiled sheepishly.

"Here, you're staggering…" Reese said, reaching into his pack and tossing Jean a stimpack.

"You sure?" The young woman took the item, looking at him cautiously.

"Yeah, take it." Reese said. After she had injected it into her leg, healing the cripple, she headed back to Goodsprings.

"Now that was some good work," Sunny said.

"Yeah…" Reese said, slinging the rifle that Sunny had given him back over his shoulder.

"Take a couple of caps…" Sunny said, opening a pouch on her belt and tossing him a small bag of bottlecaps. "Little spending money for your trouble."

"Thank you." Reese said, putting the bag in his satchel.

"If you're still interested in learning some more, there's one more thing I can show you." Sunny said. "Little bit of living off the land, making things for yourself. Interested?"

"Couldn't hurt." Reese said, nodding a bit.

"Alright, we'll need some ingredients to get started. Gonna want some Xander root and a Broc flower." Sunny said.

"And where am I supposed to find those?" Reese asked.

"Some Broc flowers are growing up in the graveyard, and I remember their being Xander root out by the old Schoolyard." Sunny said at length, trying to recall the memories.

"Then I'll go check it out." Reese said.

"Bring those back, and we'll get cooking." Sunny said.

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Reese walked through the desert back up to Goodsprings. Getting the Xander root had been easy enough, the stuff had been growing in droves from a tree stump by the front door.

Then, he headed up to the Graveyard, and found the spot where he'd been left to die.

It was shallow, but seeing it resonated deeply within him, as if he'd just been given a glimpse at his own tombstone.

"_God ain't nice enough to give me that peace."_ He thought bitterly as he glanced down, remembering that night and that ominous feeling he'd gotten when he'd picked up the delivery the night before he'd been shot. He didn't know why, but God or fate or just extreme dumb luck had kept him alive. On the next day, he knew, he would leave Goodsprings, and he would head out to find the man in the checkered suit.

If God wouldn't give him eternal sleep, then he'd raise hell through the Mojave.

Picking a few of the Broc flowers off of the stem, he turned and left the bone orchard.

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At the campfire, a pot had been set up, and a fire started. Sunny stirred to contents of the pot, giving Reese pointers on how long to let the mixture sit and when to add what to it.

A few minutes later, she poured the red-brown liquid into a leather drinking skin.

"Tribal remedy, healing powder," Sunny said. "The stuff has a shelf life of just about forever, but I'd be careful with it."

"Why?" Reese asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You'll get a pretty nasty drug trip if you take too much at once." Sunny said. "It's too weak to do much damage, but even Fiends won't touch the stuff, which is saying a lot."

"Well, thanks." Reese said, tying up the drinking skin and putting it carefully into his satchel.

"And that's about all I can teach you, I'm afraid." Sunny said. "I best head back up to the Saloon. Cheyenne gets mad if we miss anything good."

"Thank you for very, Miss Smiles." Reese said.

"Please, call me Sunny." The young woman said. "Oh, and you might want to head up to the Saloon yourself, say hello to Trudy. She likes to meet anyone new who comes to Goodsprings."

"I'll go up and see her." Reese said.

00000

Another half hour later brought Reese back to the Saloon. Moving through the door, Reese heard raised voices speaking.

Turning the corner, he found a tall, bald man in a NCRCF jumpsuit speaking to a middle-aged woman wearing a simple dress and a coat, along with an extremely apathetic look.

"I'm done being nice!" The man snapped. "If you don't hand Ringo over soon, I'm gonna get my friends and we're gonna burn this town to the ground! Got it?"

"We'll keep that in mind." The woman retorted. "Now, if you're not gonna buy something, then get out."

"I don't think you're taking me seriously, you cunt." The man said, pulling out a switchblade from his belt. "Powder Gangers don't make threats they don't follow through on!"

"Do they eat bullets?" Reese asked, clicking back the hammer of his three fifty seven, seeming to have teleported from the doorway to right behind the man. "Because if not, you're about to be shit out of luck…you cunt…"

The man turned on Reese with the switchblade, managing to force Reese's hand up. Unfortunately for him, Reese had two hands, and the one that wasn't holding the six-shooter caught the man's wrist and dislocated it, forcing him to drop the knife.

"I think that these people have had enough of you." Reese said. "Now leave here." When the punk attempted to reach for his knife, Reese turned his revolver back on him, clicking the hammer back once more. "I'm not going to ask again."

The man rubbing his wrist in anguish and, glaring daggers at the man in the Vault 21 suit, scuttled for the door. The two or three people in the saloon went back to their drinks.

"Well, you've been causing quite a stir. Glad to meet you." The woman who he'd been speaking to turned to Reese. "Welcome to the Prospector Saloon."

"Ma'am." Reese nodded to her. "Trudy, I presume?"

"That's me." Trudy nodded, walking over to stand behind the bar. "You got a lot of balls taking on Joe Cobb. Here, have a round on the house. What's your poison?"

"Whiskey," Reese said as he took a seat at the bar while Trudy snatched up a shot glass and poured him a drink. After Reese had downed the liquid and set the glass back on the bar, he looked back to Trudy, "I overheard the argument. What was his problem?"

"Looks like our little town got dragged in the middle of something we don't want anything to do with." Trudy said, grimacing.

"And what might that be?" Reese asked.

"Ringo, a trader, showed up about a week ago. Survivor of an attack, he says. Bad men coming after him, he needs a place to hide." Trudy said. "We figured he was just in shock, so we gave him a place to lie low."

"So that's where that punk came in?" Reese asked.

"Yeah." Trudy nodded.

"Funny thing, about it," Reese said, "from the look of Goodsprings, I'm surprised that Cobb hasn't found him already. The town isn't that big."

"He hasn't been looking too hard, I don't think," Trudy said, "afraid that Ringo'll ambush him, which is probably true."

"Great, frightened and trigger-happy," Reese said, understanding her sentiment. "So where's he now?"

"Holed up at the abandoned gas station up the hill," Trudy said.

"And he's just gonna sit there?" Reese asked. "I'm not one for thinking that Powder Gangers make idle threats."

"You from NCR?" Trudy asked. "You know who they are. Most people even out here don't."

"I'm from California," Reese corrected, "farmer out there until about three years ago, decided to come try my luck out in the Mojave. I never actually lived in NCR lands."

"So you went from farmer to courier that quick?" Trudy asked.

"My old man always told me to do what feels right before you do what makes sense to ya." Reese shrugged, giving the slightest smile on the corners of his lips. There was a brief silence where Reese could almost sense that Trudy was appraising him.

After a moment, though, she decided to stop pursuing that line of questioning. "So you know about the Powder Gangers?" She asked.

"Yeah…bunch of crooks the NCR locked up, decided to bring 'em out here." Reese said, nodding.

"Yeah, well they busted out of the NCRCF." Trudy said. "Been causing trouble ever since."

"I might be able to look into this thing with Ringo." Reese said. "You think anyone else in Goodsprings will help?"

"Some of the others might, especially Sunny, if Ringo would ask for help, which he hasn't." Trudy said. "Personally, I'm hoping he'll sneak out one night and take the Powder Gangers with him."

"I'll head up there, then." Reese said, reaching into his bag and shoveling out a few caps, dropping them onto the bar.

"Keep your caps," Trudy said, pushing them back across the table to him, "I heard about what you did for my daughter down at the well."

The two shared a respectful smile before Reese carefully took the caps back, putting them back into his satchel.

"You be careful out there." Trudy said as Reese headed for the door.

"Yes, ma'am," Reese said, turning back for a brief moment before he headed back outside.

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**A/N**: And that's chapter two! Next up, Reese gets a hold of Ringo and it seems that a showdown in Goodsprings is inevitable...actually, that seems like a good name. Let's go with that..."Showdown in Goodsprings"...coming...eventually.


	3. Showdown in Goodsprings

**A/N:** And now, Goodsprings versus the Powder Gangers.

**Chapter Three**  
Showdown in Goodsprings

Out of Prospector Saloon, Reese headed back up the road he'd come down from, heading up the hill toward the broken and faded circular sign in the distance that marked the old gas station.

The sun had set completely by the time that he found his way to the door of the gas station. Opening it, he was immediately greeted with the sound of a magazine clicking into place.

"That's close enough!" The short, plaid-clad man wielding a nine millimeter said, pointing his weapon at Reese's chest. "Who are you and what do you want with me?"

"If you're going to shoot me, you'd better not miss." Reese warned, eyes narrowing at the man.

"Sorry, sorry." The man said, putting it away. "You just caught me off-guard is all."

"Well, don't let it happen again." Reese said.

"Just got off to a bad start is all!" The man laughed nervously. "What say we start over with a friendly game of Caravan? You know how to play?"

"You must be Ringo." Reese said.

"Yessir, that's me." Ringo nodded.

"You do know that a man named Joe Cobb's looking for you, right?" Reese asked.

"Yeah. He doesn't look very tough, though. I hear he's afraid I'll shoot him through one of the windows when I see him, and he's right." Ringo replied.

"He has friends, y'know?" Reese asked. "Powder Gangers tend to run in packs."

"Yeah, I know." Ringo said. "And that's when I'll have a much bigger problem. There's no way I can handle all of them in a gunfight."

"So what do you plan to do?" Reese asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Lay low for as long as I can, assuming the town doesn't throw me to the wolves." Ringo shrugged. "I don't have a chance against that gang on my own."

"I can help." Reese said.

"You?" Ringo asked, looking the man up and down. "From what I heard, you're a Courier."

"I've been known to branch out into all sorts of things." Reese said. "And I intimately know my way around a six-shooter."

"We'd just end up sharing the same grave if it's just the two of us," Ringo shook his head, "Now, if some other people were also on board…"

Reese thought about this, then nodded, "I'll ask around and see who I can round up."

"Start with Sunny, she's been friendlier than most around here." Ringo said.

"Gotcha." Reese said. "And you said something about Caravan?"

Ringo nodded. "Yeah, it's a card game. You don't see it in the casinos in New Vegas because the way it's played, there's no way for the house to have an edge."

"How do you play?" Reese asked, his response was being handed a deck of cards and a holotape.

"Read the holotape and it'll tell you the rules." Ringo said. "And the deck you can keep, it's my spare."

After a few minutes, Reese found that he was absolutely terrible at Caravan.

"Ah, well…beginner's luck seems to have gone on a vacation…" Reese said as he set the deck carefully into his satchel.

"Well, you can find more cards out all over the place." Ringo said. "It takes a lot of work and strategy to build a killer deck, but I've seen some people who've run circles around me."

"Yeah, well, I think I'll take a breather and go find Sunny." Reese said, getting to his feet again. "Besides, I'd like to keep the caps I have left."

"No problem." Ringo said. "Take it easy…"

With that, Reese headed back down the hill.

"Staying in Goodsprings a little longer?" His head turned to greet Sunny, who was heading up down the same path.

"You been following me?" Reese asked her.

"I think the fact that I'm soaked to my ankles in gecko blood and the skins I've got in my pack would say otherwise." Sunny said, patting the leather bag that was slung over one shoulder.

"Fair enough," Reese said, "I spoke to Ringo. I was wondering if you'd-"

"Say no more." Sunny said. "I'm in."

"Well, that was easy." Reese said, surprised.

"Joe Cobb says he'll leave Goodsprings alone if we hand over Ringo," Sunny said, making a fist with one of her hands as her eyes narrowed, "but I know his type. He and his friends will come after the town eventually."

"We might die horribly." Reese said, then added with a wry smile, "Well, maybe not me."

"That's inspiring." Sunny said, mirroring his look. "You might want to keep your optimism to yourself if you try to recruit anyone else."

"I'll keep that in mind." Reese said. "So that's three we have on our side."

"Yeah, that doesn't leave us a force to be reckoned with." Sunny said. "A lot of people look up to Trudy. If you could get her on our side, some of the people in town will join up as well."

"Done and done." Reese nodded, heading up toward the Saloon. Less than five minutes had passed before he stood at the bar of the Prospector's Saloon once more.

"So you're planning on taking on Joe Cobb and his gang?" Trudy asked without so much as a "hello". "Hope you know what you're getting into."

"We're staging an ambush near the saloon and the store. Good spots to stage one," Reese said, "If I had the help…"

"Sounds like a good plan." Trudy said, wiping down the bar with a rag. "Count me in. I'll see if I can convince some of the townsfolk to join this little militia you're creating."

"Thank you," Reese said, nodding.

"You might want to check at the General Store." Trudy said. "Everybody in town owns a gun, but we could stand to be better equipped."

"I'll check it out." Reese said, heading out the door and heading next door.

The General Store had a wide assortment of junk that was arranged in neat, little cubicles. Standing behind them, eyeing Reese suspiciously, was a man in denim overalls with jet black hair.

"You must be the one Doc Mitchell was patching up." The man said. "The way I heard it, I didn't think you'd be walking out of that office."

"Yeah, that's me." Reese said. "The human pin cushion."

"Well, I've got plenty of supplies for sale. Even some weapon mods and special ammo – well worth the caps if you ask me." The man said. "I'm Chet, by the way."

"Yeah, I didn't ask and nice to meet you." Reese said. "We need some supplies to fight the Powder Gangers."

"Now just hold on a damn minute!" Chet snapped. "I never voted to take on the Powder Gangers! That's a thousand cap investment we're talking!"

"Oh, a greedy bastard, nice," Reese said, "well, just let the town get run over by the damn Gangers. I'm sure you'll have _great_ business, then."

"Fine, take this, then!" Chet said, tossing the man a suit of leather. "I'll see that everyone else gets this and some ammo. I still think this is a bad idea."

"Good, I'll hold you to that." Reese said, ignoring that last comment as he headed for the door.

000000

"Hey, Doc."

"Hello, Reese. How are you holding up?" Doc asked as Reese stepped back through the door of his home.

"Pretty well," Reese said, "I need a bit of help. The town's about to be attacked by bandits, is there anything you can do to help?"

Mitchell sighed, "Seems like wherever I go, it's the same. Folks just never leave each other alone."

Reese saw something in his look, gazing down at the ground. The old man had a look that Reese had seen in the mirror every day for the last three years.

"I ain't much good in a fight, with my bum leg," Mitchell said, his expression fading and him speaking again before Reese could get a word in, "And my supplies are scarce, but I'll give what I can."

With that, the Doc tossed Reese a small, gray box.

"Stimpacks," Mitchell said, "I hope you ain't gonna have a need for 'em."

"Thanks, Doc." Reese said.

Mitchell nodded as Reese headed back out.

When he emerged out into the night, he heard a great commotion and saw several people in black leather standing before the saloon. Trudy had rallied the town.

"Time to look alive," Sunny said as she ran up to him. "The Powder Gangers are here to play."

"How many are here?" Reese asked.

"Six, including Cobb." Sunny said.

"Okay, so let's do this." Reese said.

"I'll set up near the store." Sunny said. "Make sure the bastards don't get that far."

"Don't worry, they won't." Reese said, pulling out his revolver. He took cover behind the saloon's sign as he peeked out to see the forms of six men coming toward the town.

"Looks like they have dynamite," He muttered to himself, "Pity they'll be out of range to use it."

Aiming carefully, he set off a shot toward the one on the farthest left. A crimson plume erupted from his forehead as he fell to the ground, dead. His fellows looked over to see him fall just as Reese fired off a second shot, blasting another through the head and to the ground. This continued quickly, one-by-one, until only Joe Cobb was left.

Reese stepped out and reloaded, stepping over and sidestepping two shots from Cobb before he shot the gun out of the man's hand.

"You're outta shots, Cobb." Reese said. "And you've got nobody left to help you out."

Cobb clutched his wounded hand, stumbling back along the broken asphalt.

"All along in the dark…" Reese said, stepping forward with his revolver ready to fire. Cobb reached for yet another switchblade from his pockets…as he pulled it out, a bullet hit it and sent it flying to pieces against the ground.

"Defiant to the last, aren't you?" Reese snorted. "I have to admit, I have to admire that. But you're just scum…"

"You think I'm the only one?" Cobb gave a humorless laugh. "You killed all my buddies…you about to kill me…you think that the other Powder Gangers ain't gonna hear about this?"

"It's funny…" Reese said, aiming his gun to Cobb's forehead. "I forgot the part where I was supposed to give a damn."

"You're fightin' a snake with a hundred heads, you stupid hick!" Cobb laughed. "One of 'em's gonna nip you in the ass!"

The gun went off. Cobb fell to the ground wearing his crazed grin, forever to be frozen on his face, which had already begun to lose color as death took him.

"Ninety-nine left." Reese said as the man's blood pooled out onto the ground.

"Damn…you showed him." Ringo said.

"People like him are scum." Reese said. "If there's one less person like him out in the world, then we're all better for it. And we just put down six of them today."

"Yeah, well, take this…" Ringo said, handing him some caps. "What I won off of you in Caravan, plus a little extra."

"Thanks." Reese said, pocketing the money. "I think that the Saloon is gonna see a few of these before the night is out…"

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The next morning, a pale, yellow sun greeted the Mojave and Reese as he left Doc Mitchell's home for what he knew would be the last time. The old doctor had been kind enough to allow him the kindness of shelter for the night. Reese hoped to head down to the General Store and get some supplies before slipping out of town quietly.

The folk of Goodsprings seemed to think otherwise, and had all gotten up to greet him.

"What were you thinking?" Trudy asked. "That you could track those men on your own?"

"I reckoned I could've." Reese shrugged.

"All the way through the Mojave about a week after they'd already been through there?" Sunny laughed. "You're not quite right, Reese." Reese just gave a bit of a grim smile.

"Well, I'll tell you, if it helps, we do know that they wouldn't have headed north." Trudy said. "That whole stretch of I-15 gets avoided like it's radiated, which it could be for all I know."

"Why?" Reese asked. "What's up there?"

"Deathclaws get mentioned," Sunny said, "and other stuff, stuff you can't even imagine."

"Okay, so…don't go north. I got it." Reese nodded. Brash as he was, he had enough sense to know not to head right into the open arms of Deathclaws.

"Those fellas were in here trying to get a few free drinks on the house the other night." Trudy said. "I eventually got them to cough up, though."

"Did they say where they were going?" Reese asked.

"The Khans didn't say much other than be rowdy and drink my bar near dry," Trudy said, "the man in the checkered suit though, he was talking about the Strip. If he's the guy who done the deed, I'd be going after him."

"Then I guess I'm heading up to the Strip," Reese said, remembering the shine of the platinum chip in that man's hand before he'd put a bullet in his head.

"For that, you're gonna wanna head south to Primm and go east, then head north when you get through Nipton." Trudy said. "You can't miss it."

"Thank you." Reese said, turning and looking at the town folk. "Thanks to all of you."

"Well, before you head out, we've all chipped in and gotten you a few things." Trudy said, holding up a sack. "We figured you shouldn't be heading to the Strip in naught but your hide and some leather."

Reese graciously took the bag from her, opening it and examining the contents. Chet also came forward with the last piece of Reese's ensemble – a leather duster that the courier happily put on.

"That symbol on that duster…that's an old world flag, isn't it?" Sunny asked, seeing the blue circle surrounded by stars and strips of red coming down from the circle.

"Yeah…it is." Reese said, smoothing out the fabric.

"Where'd you get it?" She asked.

"If I told you, you'd never believe me." Reese said, face still grim as ever as he settled his courier satchel over himself, remembering all too well the Divide and what had happened there.

"Couple of canteens in there, too…" Chet said.

"Chet here was _more_ than happy to contribute to helping you out," Sunny said, patting the merchant on the back and causing the short man to issue a nervous laugh, "after all you've done for Goodsprings."

Reese couldn't help the slightest smile. That explained the twitch in Chet's eye.

"Feel free to fill those up at the Wells down the hill," Sunny said, "and feel free to come back in visit us anytime."

"Thank you all," Reese said, smiling to them.

"No need to thank us," Trudy said. "It's the least we can do after all you've done."

With his last few goodbyes said - and another reminder from Mitchell not to get shot in the head again – Reese headed south toward Primm as he'd been told.

"_A day to Primm…_" Reese thought as he headed down the hills from Goodsprings, staying along the broken asphalt of the road. "_A day closer to finding the man in the checkered suit."_

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**A/N: **And the showdown is done. The Powder Gangers are done in Goodsprings, hopefully, and Reese will continue on to the town of Primm on his way north. Up next? "My Kind of Town". Hopefully coming soon!

Oh, yeah, and the mention about the duster. That _is_ Ulysses duster from _Lonesome Road_, which I won't be doing. I found it to be a very unsatisfying conclusion to all the foreshadowing and set up to it. Yes, I understand the themes and everything, but it didn't keep it from being vastly unsatisfying.

Thus, it already happened in the chronology of the storyline and Reese has Ulysses' duster because he thought it looked cool. In Reese's mind, the guy was just a crazy whackjob with a cool duster. I won't be going over it.

Other DLCs for New Vegas, however, will more than likely come up. The very first one being as good as gold. But anyway, that's all a ways off regardless. So, for the time being, enjoy


End file.
